The jars were made of a marble-type stone found in Egypt and later in Israel. They usually held the finest of oils and perfumes. In order to keep these fine ointments from spilling or evaporating, these jars and containers did not just have a lid, but were sealed completely. So the oil had to be a one time use. Once the jar was broken open, it's significance was gone. And whoever this great gift was given to or used for, was the object of the greatest affection and love.
I am writing the following from the woman's point of view in Luke 7. I can relate to this woman, no matter who she was, what season of life she was enduring, or what her profession had been. If we are honest, I think we all can. After all, we are all sinners.
What's your alabaster jar?
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Breathe deep.
His face, His laughter, His voice. His presence. It causes all breath to escape me. In a fleeting second I realize I must put forth effort to catch a breath in the same atmosphere in which He is existing.
I had to come. I had to see. The desire, the need that is causing this ache in my heart was greater than any custom or lack of invitation.
The ladies of the house place the food in front of these men, and with flippancy they begin to pass and break and dip without a hint of reverence. Do they not know with whom they sit around this meal? Pharisees and leaders in the temple, shouldn't they know the face of their Savior?
He doesn't seem to mind. He smiles, enjoying the nourishment, talking of His journeys and people He has met along the way.
A king deserves a greater gathering this. A golden goblet rather than that cup made out of pottery. The fatted calf. Cheese and wine. The finest fruit. A throne rather than that uncomfortable pillow on the floor. Gifts and kisses.
I wonder how He was greeted and welcomed as He crossed the threshold.
The lack of honor and love is more than I can bear, but who am I? A sinner. Too great of a sinner to let my presence in these shadows be known. If it isn't one thing, then it has been another. My mind is constantly spinning webs and I feel tangled up in this life. I should go.
Oh but that weight in the pocket of my robe. There is my reminder. My alabaster jar. This is my chance. The only way I can demonstrate my love and the surrender of the sins that have controlled me.
I am tired. I am lonely and afraid. I came here to see Him. But much more than that, I came here to have freedom. To ask for my God to forgive me and cleanse me. I came here to honor Him. To treat Him the way a King should be treated. It is up to me, the sinner.
As I push the curtains aside, I stand with the stain of my sin visible for all these men to see. For a moment, the room is an unfounded silent, and then the hush of whispers begin to burn my ears and pierce my heart. Their stares are like daggers. I can not do this. I have made such a mistake, just like so many I have made before.
He locks His eyes to mine and I can't help but put one foot in front of the other. I have never spoken a word to Him in the flesh, but somehow I know He knows me. Tears begin to fill my eyes as I continue to look at only Him. The whispers leave my ears with each step I take closer to Him.
I reach Him and as I look down at Him sitting on the worn and tattered pillow around this table, I realize I am not where I am suppose to be. I drop to my knees and my face falls to His feet. Now I am home. My words have completely escaped me. I have never known a place so holy...so sacred...so humbling...so freeing.
My hand slides into my pocket and it brings out my offering. The alabaster stone shatters onto the floor with one fling of my wrist. The sound does not startle me, but brings a joy that is uncontrollable. My greatest possession is broken and it's fine contents begin to mingle with my tears, as it pours over and anoints my Lord's feet. This is my life, my livelihood, the only semblance of wealth that I have to my name...and now it is His. All that I have is His.
I realize I have had and have been nothing without Him. And now I know He is my everything.
The silence is broken. My heart stands still as one of the men calls out the title that I bear heavier than any criminal's cross. "Sinner!" As I wipe His feet with my hair to dry the flood of tears, I hear the voice of my God, directed back at the man who threw the slur. His voice is still filled with patience, joy, and grace. In a moment when I want to spew fire at that Pharisee for calling out the pain of what I already know to be true, I learn from this Man. Only love and forgiveness is heard in His teaching.
Without hesitation and still not a word, I kiss His feet, and His direction turns to me. For a few moments the silence is again defeanening. Then, He praises me. His words are branded onto my heart and into my mind...
"I tell you, her sins-and they are many-are forgiven, so she has shown me much love. But a person who is forgiven little shows only little love."
He takes my face into His hands. He wipes the remainder of my tears away, and He fills my soul with a smile that heals the deepest wounds.
"Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace, dear one."
http://www. biblestudytools.com/dictionary/alabaster/
https://lindzcole.wordpress.com/2015/02/02/what-is-the-significance-of-the-alabastor-jar-in-Luke-737-38/
http://trivialdevotion.blogspot.com/2012/02/cost-of-alabaster.html
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